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First Mortar Attack

I suppose everyone remembers their first mortar attack. I remember parts of mine. My good friend, Barb, had finally talked me into singing with a group that sang around Dong Tam by countering my argument of,
                "I really don't sing all that well,"
                                with,
                "the guys don't care…they just want to stare at you." 

(Prior to my joining the group, she was the only female, so she knew these things.)

"Well, if you get me drunk enough………."
"No problem!!!"
So I ate steaks with the group and drank a keg or so of beer and was ready for whatever might happen. What did I, the FNG, know about the Navy EM club?

I'm pretty sure every guy in there bought me a drink and pinched my ass, so, by the time I got back to the hooch it was past curfew, I was way past drunk and Donut 6 was waiting with the appropriate lecture which I don't exactly remember but am sure I listened to contritely, made the appropriate apologies, then went to my room and promptly passed out.

In Dong Tam, when there was a mortar attack, certain rituals occurred. First, an obnoxiously loud siren went off. Next, the MP who guarded our gate stopped at each woman's door and knocked……just in case we had missed the blaring siren.

On this particular night, I remained passed out through both of those occurrences and awoke to Donut 6 screaming, at the top of her lungs, something like:

"FOR GOD'S SAKE GET OUT OF THERE BEFORE WE BOTH DIE."

Even in my drunken stupor, that sounded pretty serious…….particularly screamed in that tone……..but my mind was so foggy…….and it was so hot……….and I was so nude………

OK……..just throw the poncho liner around you and get the hell out of here……….which I did…….and ran staggering toward the door………..but ended up on the floor bare ass to concrete……….somehow in my confused state I had failed to remember that I had tied that slippery poncho liner to my bed to keep it from sliding off.

"GET OUT OF THERE!!! WE'RE BEING MORTARED!!!"

Well, that would explain all those explosions I keep hearing.

"I'M COMING………I'M COMING!!!"

Actually, that was a lie. I was still sitting on the floor trying to untie the damned poncho liner. Modesty had not yet been abandoned.

After finally succeeding, I made another grand dash to the door………..only to discover that, for the first and only time I was in Nam………I had locked the door. (Where the hell did I put the key?)

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT WE CAN BOTH DIE HERE. GET TO THE BUNKER NOW!!!"

"I'M HURRYING. I SWEAR………I'M HURRYING"

(Dear, Lord, please help me find the key)

By the time we made it to the bunker, I had sobered up enough to realize that this was, indeed, dangerous. One round had landed in the ditch next to our hooch, so the fact that Donut 6 and I were still alive and uninjured was only by the grace of God………and it was really pretty frightening sitting in that bunker listening to the mortars falling around us.

I said to no one in particular, "I forgot my cigarettes."

If looks could kill, Donut 6 would have done to me what the mortars hadn't.

"But I guess I don't need one right now."

The day after the attack was the only time I ever asked for statistics…….120 rounds………89 killed……. including guys going home the next day…….now in coffins………

emily strange
©1999

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